


Defying Fate

by Kheru



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fall of Beacon (RWBY), Gen, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 17:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kheru/pseuds/Kheru
Summary: Do you believe in destiny?That question had haunted Pyrrha, for what could very well have been her whole life. She had always done what she thought was right, wondering if her path was already determined. Training, fighting, caring, hurting, falling… dying. When she set off running for the tower of Beacon, she knew one thing: she was going to die here and now, doing what she thought was right. She was going to die. She had accepted it, readied herself for her last moment. Given up hope and made peace with what had been her life.
Kudos: 6





	Defying Fate

Screams. Of agony, of despair, of thinly veiled abandon. Orders shouted left and right, children battling for their life and their home, every single weapon, every single rock weaponized in a desperate attempt to salvage something, anything. Beacon was falling.

There was not a single doubt in Pyrrha’s mind that this was the end of most, if not all things. There were just too many Grimm crawling around, too many rogue paladins and knights rampaging, too many white fang members finishing the job. At the very least, this would be the end of her.

She knew it, there was no use in denying that the path that had led her to that tower would cut short. Yet, she knew she would have ended a thousand ways more had she left then. She had… made peace with her destiny. She had done what she could, and now she was off to do what she should.

She felt a twinge of guilt at the memory of Jaune, his surprise, his kindness, his panic when she sent him away in that locker…

He was safe now, she reasoned. He couldn’t come after her. Her fate would not be his, and for all of her foolish hope that their futures would be intertwined, she was glad that she could make sure it never would be. She had taken a deep breath, weighed her options, and then she had stepped into the elevator. Using her Semblance to that extent would tire her-

It didn’t matter.

She was not coming down.

She knew it, with the same certainty that had taken her to the Maiden’s vault in the first place, the same immovable, imperious and absolute knowledge. That was simply her role, her place in life. She would go up that tower, fight against the monster that had vanquished and without a doubt felled Ozpin. She would do as much as she could to keep her there, prevent whatever it was she was planning.

With a little luck, she would die too.

She spared a glance to her weapons, Milo and Akouo sporting a few more dents and scratches from her last fight. Then she ripped the doors open, throwing everything she had in that first assault. For a fraction of a second, she actually thought she might just be able to end it all in a brutal attack. It wasn’t like she had never killed anyone. The thought was bitter but soon interrupted by the effortless parry of her opponent.

She brought her weapons back to her and assumed a fighting stance. This would not be an easy battle. Some part of her rejoiced at that, a tiny speck she had thought gone from the moment she had stepped into that building. A tiny joy, that her end was delayed, even in the slightest. Some selfish part that wanted her last stand to mean something, to go down in a true battle.

Maybe she was really glad that everything would end here. A grand finale to the grand hero Pyrrha Nikos, war prodigy and child soldier. She was a warrior. If she was to end here… At least it would have been fighting until the last of her aura broke. She wouldn’t have to run, wouldn’t have to face the consequences and the what-ifs, wouldn’t have to blame herself for not taking the headmaster’s offer sooner.

Would it have changed anything? Would it have saved anyone? Did it really matter, now that everything was said and done?

She felt almost… detached from the brutal exchange of blows that was taking place in what was probably one of the highest points of the city, if not the continent. It was almost mechanic, the way she dodged and blocked and attacked and-

Her thoughts were brought back abruptly in the present when her foe grabbed her weapon with a lazy smirk. She had miscalculated. Not how dangerous her opponent was, or how hopeless her pitiful attempt at a fight would be. She had miscalculated how much she wanted to live. A fiery blast of power to the chest sent her body careening against the wall, and her mind flinging off the calm apathy it had hidden into.

She stood up, only to see her opponent flying at her… Good, she thought briefly. She wanted to throw her around? Well, two could play that game. She knew she was going to die here, nothing could change that… But now, at the very least, she was determined to put up one hell of a fight. It felt like a shot of adrenaline or waking up from a coma. Her thoughts were racing, her mind piecing together every single scrap of what she knew about her foe. She was making and discarding strategies as she went, and with a furrowed brow, she started landing hits.

The satisfaction she felt holding a knife to her throat was probably senseless and worrying-

She cast those thoughts aside. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the monstrosity that had been clinging to the towers nought but seconds ago leave. She would have liked to think she had actually scared it. Made it leave, never again to be seen, buried again under the stone of Mountain Glenn. The creature, screeching on its way back to trample the building, dashed those hopes in a second. And while she looked away, trying to piece together what was happening…

Milo broke.

In three pieces, torn and ravaged, melted in the hands of her opponent. Something inside her broke with it, grief clawing at her as she was hit once again with the death of any hope that she could win this fight. Then an elbow made contact with her ribs, and she heard something else break amongst the shattered glass and clanging cogs.

She had to reach for her shield. Her brain was fuzzy with pain that felt like tv static, everything was muffled- still, a quick look told her that was exactly what her killer was waiting for. She was hovering mid-air, those cruel flames shrouding her like a mockery, and Pyrrha just knew right then and there that if she tried to reach Akouo, she would be murdered before she had even taken a single step forward. So she did the first thing that came to mind.

The broken husk of metal that might have been a desk in better times slammed against the maiden with the violence of a freight train, and she recovered her shield with almost reverent gratitude. It protected her from the next onslaught of attacks, and behind a wall of fire, an idea formed in her mind. It was dangerous, of course. As if that would stop her now.

She had to give up her shield, at least temporarily. She had been so desperate to get it back, it looked like it was her only weapon. If she wanted to keep her edge, if she wanted to do any more damage… She had to throw it away. Quite literally, she thought to herself as she flung Akouo across the now devastated office.

It was easily deflected, as she had expected. The dozens of gigantic gears she had pulled from the rubble and weaponized, however, would prove to be much more efficient. She pulled her shield back to her, surprising her foe once again before sending everything she could plummeting to the ground. Hoping, praying that she could just crush her and be done with it, knowing it would never be quite that easy.

Another blast of fire, another split second of instant realisation and regret. Another hit to her chest, and then her back met a stray pillar, and yet another thing broke. This time it was her aura, and she spared a split second to curse and thank that damned masonry. Oh, what she would have given to see what would have happened, had she been catapulted into the open skies full of roving Grimm.

She hadn’t. And so she stood up, once again, and she threw everything she had along with Akouo. She wasn’t stupid- she knew she was running herself ragged. That she couldn’t rely on her semblance anymore, that this was likely the last attack she would ever make. She knew those were the last minutes, perhaps seconds of her life, and she closed her eyes for a second.

To be grateful for the years she had lived, the beauty she had seen and the kindness she had been offered. To mourn everything she would miss, and regret everything she couldn’t do. To apologize to everyone she had ever met, everyone who would ever miss her.

Perhaps that’s why the searing pain in her leg surprised her that much, spreading like venom in her veins and tearing a desperate cry from her lungs. She winced, grit her teeth and attempted to get up again. She wasn’t done, not quite yet, she could still fight-

She fell right back down, the brittle arrow shattering in the process and rummaging in the depths of her flesh, prompting yet another pained scream. Again, she thought, even though she wanted nothing more than to scream, to run and hide, to leave and never come back. She bit her tongue, drawing blood, and the taste of salt in her mouth accompanied her second attempt at standing up. It had little results, besides breaking the other side of the arrow that had pierced cleanly through her calf.

Cleanly was a bit of a stretch. It may have been a clean wound when it entered, but she had felt in great detail how the shaft of the weapon had moved, splintered, and jammed itself in what felt like every single nerve she had. A few tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, and she pressed them into her forearms. She would not give her the satisfaction of seeing them.

The fight was over. They both knew so, and her assassin took great care to circle around her, monologuing about how tragic and pathetic her end was, and how much more worthy and powerful she was. With a bitter, cruel irony, Pyrrha made a choice. The choice to plague her killer with the same interrogation that had nursed her bruises and guided her blade. She pulled away from the condescending grasp, ignoring the screams of agony rising from pretty much every part of her body she could still feel, and she stared at her foe.

“Do you believe in Destiny?”

In an instant, the self-satisfied smirk was wiped from her face, replaced by a cold frown. She answered, in a tone that might have sounded casual had they not both been at the climax of a deathmatch, and she took a few steps back, summoning her bow out of thin air. Pyrrha breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. It was all over. She could stop fighting now. She had made peace with her destiny, accepted her fate.

Or so she thought.

A noise caught her attention on her left, something akin to footsteps. And just like that, her perfect end was obliterated by a million pointless questions. What was that noise? Was it someone? How could there be footsteps? Were they coming for her? Would they be in danger?

She shifted, oh so slightly, to try and get a look. She heard the high pitched whistle of the arrow a second too late, a second after it pierced her skin and burned through her flesh. She had to hand it to her killer: the blow was clean and would kill her in a matter of seconds, piercing right through her arteries despite her armour.

Or it would have been, had she not turned away from her end. Instead, she wheezed, blood filling her lungs and panic spreading like a wildfire through her nervous system. She hiccupped a few pained, ragged breaths, and she had just about enough time of consciousness to feel every single muscle of her body twitch and see the look of primal rage and desperation in Ruby’s eyes.

“I’m sorry!” she tried, one last time, but no sound came out of her broken carcass, and her body went limp.

The last thing she ever saw was a blinding white light.

* * *

There was only panic in her heart. She was berating herself for sending Ruby up there, alone. As soon as the blinding light had shone from the top of that tower, she simply knew something terrible had happened. She had rushed in, climbing as high as she could before having to resort to her glyphs to make any progress, her Aura running dangerously low as she finally reached the torn battlefield.

She let out an involuntary gasp as her eyes finally adjusted to the abrupt change in brightness, only to see two bodies limp on the ground. The gigantic beast that had terrorised the city was clinging to its perch, frozen in stone, as still as everything else around. A third silhouette was there, hands desperately pressed against a Pyrrha that was way paler than Weiss had ever seen.

The silhouette noticed her, and a conflicted look crossed over his features- Qrow. That was Ruby’s uncle, she managed to think despite the shock. He kept glancing between Ruby and Pyrrha, visibly torn on whoever needed his attention the most, and when his hands shook slightly, Weiss finally noticed the black rod protruding there. Then she noticed the blood, and her whole body quivered.

“Good, the Ice Queen is here. Not the one I was expecting, but you’ll do. Say, kid, how strong are your arms?”

“What- why?” she stammered, unable to take her eyes away from the crimson tainting her friend’s flesh.

“Because I only have two arms and we need to get both of them out as fast as we can. Can you carry Ruby all the way back to the airships?”

“Is she… Is she going to be alright?”

“Ruby? Yeah, she’s fine. She mostly needs rest.”

“I meant… I meant-“ her voice broke.

“I’m going to be honest, it doesn’t look pretty. But staying here won’t do any good. Can you, or can you not?”

“I can,” she affirmed, feeling a lump in her throat.

Silently, she went to pick up her team leader, biting her lip to hold back the tears. Pyrrha would be alright. She had to. They would just… Carry her to the airships, find some medical assistance. They would all be fine. Setting her jaw, she helped Qrow tie Ruby to her back with her cape. It wouldn’t be very comfortable, but at least her hands would be free.

Then Qrow gingerly picked up Pyrrha, as if she was made of glass, and they made their way down. A few streets further and they were joined by other people, allowing Weiss to sheathe Myrtenaster as Winter and Ironwood carved a path for them. They would be fine, she kept telling herself. They had to.

* * *

Ruby and Weiss hadn’t come back yet. Yang was unconscious, and missing a limb. Blake had run away as soon as she had made sure her partner would receive medical attention. Sun had followed soon after. They were running low on fighters, and more and more airships departed for good. Nora had often made it her duty to see the bright side in any situation, to do and say silly things until everyone laughed…

But right now her aura was broken, she and Ren were desperately fighting off the incoming Grimms, and Jaune was spiralling in anxiety behind them. He looked so… Broken. So utterly shattered. And of course, Pyrrha was still missing, off to try and fight a battle that she couldn’t win. There was no bright side here, barely a sliver of hope that the missing half of team RWBY would come back with their teammate, and that everything would be…

Tolerable, at the very least. It didn’t feel like anything could feel fine ever again. The Grimm rampaging around, the people screaming and fleeing, the despair… It was all too familiar. Magnhild hit the ground with a clanking noise and she breathed hard. They wouldn’t last much longer, exposed as they were. For every Creep skull she bashed to splinters, three Beowolves appeared. For every Beowulf Ren took down, two Ursai showed up.

It felt… endless. Pointless.

Until a handful of vaguely human-looking shapes appeared, and she exchanged a glance with Ren. They both readied their weapons, unsure whether the blows would be directed at Grimm attacking innocent civilians or at opponents from the White Fang.

It turned out to be neither of those two options when a woman that looked startlingly like an older, even more strict version of Weiss all but sliced through a creature that had snuck up on them, focused as they were on the intruders. Then a few gunshots echoed and their attention was drawn to the General himself, looking positively ragged. His uniform was torn, revealing extensive robotics seemingly replacing the entire right half of his body, and he was frantically eyeing the surroundings as if expecting to be ambushed.

All of that became meaningless when they saw Weiss. Cold, calm, confident Weiss, with reddened eyes and shaky steps, looking like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders rather than a limp, lifeless Ruby.

“Can you hold the line?” Nora asked Ren, knowing the answer but still needing confirmation.

A single exhausted nod and she was gone, running to take that burden off of Weiss, at least for a moment. It took a few seconds for the heiress to register her words, and a few more to coax her into letting go of her partner. Neither of them said anything about the last silhouette grimly walking toward their fragile refuge.

She just did the best she could right now: carried Ruby over to the airship, supported Weiss’ difficult walk alongside her. Ignored the shadow in everyone’s eyes. Ignored the sickening juxtaposition of crimson blood and alabaster skin. Ignored the way her eyes stung and her heart ached, bit her tongue and winced as she heard Jaune’s desperate cry.

* * *

Everything had gone to shit. And that was one hell of an understatement. Qrow growled, liberating some of his frustration by jamming Harbinger through a Grimm skull. They had to leave, and the sooner the better…

That said, he understood why they weren’t, not quite yet. He had seen the raw pain in that blonde kid’s eyes- Jaune. He had heard his panicked, desperate scream. They were both quite familiar, uncomfortably so. And so was the blood drying in the crease of his palms, crumbling and coating his weapon with a darker, metallic red. He knew… She wasn’t going to make it. The arrow had damaged too much.

He couldn’t help but wonder if it would be another life on his conscience. After all, the smoked glass weapon was achingly recognizable, even though he had not been able to locate its owner. Should he have done something? Could he? Had he already, through his accursed Semblance?

Ozpin was dead. The kid had told him so, and even if he wasn’t quite ready to believe him yet, he knew how likely that was. All he could do for now was fight, and give everyone a minute or two to catch their breath. Two other airships came, and he knew these ones would be the last. He was reluctant at the idea of leaving, especially without searching for Ozpin… But there were more urgent matters.

Ruby was not waking up. Yang either, although her sleep was much more agitated and medicine-induced. He blinked, and suddenly Winter’s sister was gone, dragged off to brothers know where by her jackass of a father that would probably have snatched the older sibling too, had he not been reminded that she wasn’t under his authority anymore.

Everyone clambered up into the ship, half of them leaning on each other or being straight up carried, and just like that, they were off. The ride was silent, aside from the whirring of the engines and the constant, relentless psalms that emanated from the crudely put together medical corner. It was mostly just benches and seats used to lie down the wounded, but it was better than nothing.

With a sigh, he folded Harbinger and rubbed his palms, trying his best to get rid of the blood that was coagulating here before he squatted next to his nieces. Ruby would probably be alright- she didn’t have any wounds. She had just exhausted a lot of energy into making Beacon a little more literal than the dragon would have liked. It would take time, and she would have many questions upon waking up, but he wasn’t truly worried for her. At least not for her physical health.

Yang was another situation entirely. The doctor had told them that she’d make it out alive, sure… But this wouldn’t be easy on her. And that wasn’t even mentioning the tense, loaded looks he had gotten when asking about the last member of Team RWBY. There was little he could do, however, and so he just brushed a stray strand of hair from their faces, muttering a few meaningless words of comfort.

Then he went to sit beside the grief-stricken kid. Someone would have to tell him, sooner or later, that his girlfriend was not coming back… Might as well be him. At the very least, he would make for a very convenient target for Jaune’s rage. So he sighed and spared a regretful glance at the girl who had given far more than should have ever been asked of her.

“For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee.”

He felt an eyebrow raise when his brain finally parsed out the desperate whispers, Jaune’s pain almost seeping through his armour. He was holding a hand that was most likely cold already in his own two, rocking back and forth as he chanted over and over again, tears flowing freely on his cheeks. What he was trying to accomplish was a mystery, and Qrow doubted that he himself knew the answer. He was just… desperate to try and do something, refusing to admit that it was too late, that there was nothing to be done.

In truth, the weak beating in her chest had stopped long before they reached the airships. Long before they even made it out of that damned tower, so delicately that Qrow had frozen in place, wondering how long it had been silent. He had made up a lie about hearing something to appease Weiss, but from then on, he knew that carrying her back would achieve nothing, besides maybe leave a body to mourn.

It was better than nothing, he had decided then. Had he made the right call? Who knew. They were here now anyways, her armour cast aside with the shield Weiss had insisted on bringing back. Pale, lifeless. A heartbreak, in more ways than one… And a friend, a partner, a leader crying over her corpse, begging the universe to bring her back. Desperately flaring his aura again and again and again, as if that could do any good.

“Hey kid.” He tried. No reaction. “I’m sorry but… She’s gone.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!” the sudden outburst made everyone flinch, but Qrow brushed it away like it was nothing.

Oh, what he would have given to not be used to that exact scene. What he would have given to never go through that, ever again.

“I know it’s hard. And it’s going to hurt for a very long time. But you have to let go.”

“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK IT’S OKAY TO JUST SAY THAT? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHY SHE WAS THERE?!”

“She was there because she made a choice. A choice that shouldn’t even have been an option in the first place, but life doesn’t care about what should or shouldn’t happen. Shit happens, and it sucks, and it hurts. The longer you deny it, the longer it’ll hurt you.” He visibly deflated, the anger leaving him as abruptly as it had come.

“She didn’t have to go… Why… Why did she leave? I could have gone with her. I could have helped. I could-“

“You would have died.”

“I KNOW THAT!” he snapped, before casting his gaze down. “But maybe she wouldn’t have…”

“Sorry kid, but I’ve seen who she fought. You going with her would have changed nothing besides the body count. You did the best you could, there were just no other options.” Met with nothing but silence, he tried coaxing him away. “Come now. Your friends need you, and she’s not going anywhere.”

* * *

He felt broken. There weren’t words powerful enough to describe just how much of everything hurt, how much of him wanted to scream and go back in time and stop her from going to that stupid tower to die because some stupid people told her she had to. His anger had vanished with time, leaving an empty husk behind that didn’t feel quite alive either. Everyone had tried to comfort him, and he appreciated the efforts, but there was no use. He wasn’t okay, nothing about what had transpired was even remotely okay.

He would just have to bear with it for a while. Maybe the rest of his life. It didn’t feel like that wound would ever heal. They had tried talking to him, asking questions that he couldn’t be bothered to process and saying things that he forgot almost instantly. He was just looking at her.

She didn’t look peaceful.

Every time he’d been told about dead people, it had been this pretty little saying about how they look like they just fell asleep, and he was finding out just how much of a lie it was. She was frowning, her delicate features scrunched up in what looked like immense pain, frozen in time. Her head had lolled to the side sometime during the transport, and a splatter of now died blood had dripped along her collarbone.

At least someone had had the decency to close her eyes and shut her mouth. It felt slightly less gut-wrenching that way.

When they landed, a group of strangers tried to pick her up and carry her off, and Jaune nearly drew his sword on them until Ren calmed him down, telling him that they were bringing her back to her home so that her parents could mourn. They left well before anyone realised they had forgotten her crown and her shield.

Reflexively, Jaune picked them up when they left. He didn’t quite care as to enquire where they were going, or for how long. He didn’t quite care for anything, truth be told. He just held onto Akouo, every now and then lightly brushing his fingers across the scratches and creases in the metal, wondering absentmindedly how many of them had been there this morning and how many were a testimony of Pyrrha’s last fight.

A single tear fell on the copper surface, and he was almost surprised he still had enough water in his body for that kind of emotion. When he heard a sniffle, however, he realised that the tear wasn’t his. He tore his gaze away from the shield, only to find Ren and Nora looking as distraught as he felt. Qrow’s words danced in front of his eyes, and he stood up, slowly placing shield and crown on the seat he had just vacated.

Then he embraced his friends, holding them like they were his sole anchor in the world, and he cried some more. They all did, their knees giving in and bringing them to the floor in a distraught pile of limbs and sobs, and for the first time in hours, he took comfort in knowing that they were here for each other despite everything.

Pyrrha may be gone… But as long as he was still breathing, he could carry on her legacy. He would train, he would work, he would strive to be as much of a warrior as she had been. Maybe he could be half of the woman she was.

He was determined to try. For her. That’s the very least he could do.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a two-part work. Not sure when the second chapter will be published because it took quite a bit out of me to write the first one, but well. Stay tuned! I'm not quite done being angsty. I will update the tags and the summary once the second part is up!


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